The Life and Times of the School on the Moors
by Viva-la-Hope
Summary: An ongoing series of drabbles, and my first swipe at the Potterverse. Contains strong/suggestive language, het, and slash. Pairing requests welcome. Deamus, Olicus, and Drarry, oh my! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Before I begin, I'm just going to put a blanket statement that applies to the whole of this collection. I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of the characters involved therein. If I did, I would be rolling in cash and not currently be dealing with the headache that is scholarship applications, which are a fresh new hell all their own, believe me.**

**And with that out of the way, I present to you: The Life and Times of the School on the Moors**

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><p><strong>1. Hindsight<strong>

**Pairings:** Dean/Seamus, Ginny/Harry

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><p>In hindsight, firewhisky <em>may<em> have been a bit of overkill to celebrate a quidditch win against Ravenclaw. But as the muggle saying goes, Hindsight is 20/20.

The dawning of the next groggy and hungover morning in Gryffindor Tower quickly descended into anarchy as one Ronald Weasley stumbled from his bed to discover his younger sister in the slumbering embrace of his best mate. Their dormmates were less than pleased to be roused by their resulting screaming match, even more so given the splitting headaches that greeted each upon waking. A particularly nasty volley of hexes were exchanged between friends and siblings alike, and Ron held his own remarkably well, given the fact that he was outnumbered two to one.

It wasn't until they had reached an uncanny moment of silence that a certain sandy-haired Irishman decided to poke his head out of a pair or bed curtains to observe the commotion. Curtains that just so happened happened to be hanging from the bed of one Dean Thomas.

The trio watched in stunned silence as Seamus stared back at them, a vicious flush quickly rising on his freckled cheeks. Quarrel momentarily set aside, silence continued to ring out in the air. They observed with mouth agape as he nodded weakly to them and proceeded to climb out of the bed and do the walk of shame to the showers, a pair of boxers held to his nether regions to preserve some pretense of modesty.

Still ensconced in his closed curtains, Dean had proceeded to bury his flaming face into his bedding while muttering oaths alternating between strangling Seamus and never rising from his bed ever again.

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><p><strong>AN**: Deamus is OTP, and will more than likely be making many appearences down the line


	2. Chapter 2

**2. Hidden**

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><p>Neville Longbottom had a problem. He was hot.<p>

Well, that and the fact that it was New Year's Eve and he was hiding in a broom closet on the fourth floor, but that wouldn't have happened in the first place if he hadn't been hot to begin with.

You see, if puberty had been passingly kind to the likes of Malfoy and Diggory, then it had given Neville a hearty slap on the back and maybe an enthusiastic bear hug. All of Hogwarts had come to realize it, and as a result Neville feared for his life.

He had been alright with the sly glances that a group of giggling Ravenclaw fourth years had been giving him in the library that morning, okay with the wolf whistles that had followed him on his progression through the Great Hall for dinner, and slightly creeped out by Millicent Bulstrode's slack-jawed gaze during double charms that afternoon, but he drew the line when he caught sight of Blaise Zabini discretely sizing up his arse as he walked down the corridor on his way to the common room. The closer that it came to being midnight, the more bold and brazen his fellow students had become, all hoping to catch a New Year's snog from him. After dinner, he was sure that they were going to mob him, and sure enough a pair of giddy younger girls from his very own house had been tailing him until he had been able to shake them an duck into this closet at the last minute.

He hadn't the vaguest idea what time it was outside, and had absolutely no compulsion to leave the safety of the closet to find out. He was content to sit in this closet until tomorrow morning, if need be.

And that is how Neville Longbottom began the new year: by sitting on the floor of a forgotten broom closet and slowly feeling his legs go numb beneath him.

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><p><strong>AN:** Kind of crack-y and the first of a series of New Year's Eve themed drabbles (Even though I'm well aware that Hogwarts students are still on break during New Year's. Artistic liscense, yo.) It's a commonly-known fact that Matthew Lewis grew up to be quite choice, but I really couldn't see Neville being anything but adorably shy with his aquired attractiveness


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Unfair**

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><p>Draco Malfoy was not happy.<p>

Stupid New Year's with its stupid traditions and the stupid unwritten law that he had to kiss someone at midnight or spend the next year alone. It's not like he actually_ cared_ about the pointless tradition, but where were the girls throwing themselves at his feet, begging to give them the honor? He would have sneered and sent them on their way, but _still_. He didn't count Pansy's not-so-subtle hinting in the Great Hall earlier, as he was sure he'd rather snog the whomping willow (something that the weasel has suggested that he do in double charms earlier, but he'd been sure to hex the git on the way out of class for that little remark).

He was _not_ sulking. He was completely justified to be upset. True, he wasn't exactly the most _approachable_ person, but he'd expected at the very least to be propositioned by a few of the younger year girls.

He glared at stupid Potter as he wandered by, arm-in-arm with the she-weasel and might have hexed them if he wasn't already aware that girl Weasley could sling a nasty stinging hex. Even scarhead had a girl tonight.

At the very least, maybe Blaise would be up for a little experimentation later. There was always that...

Maybe.

Draco sighed explosively. He was not happy.

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><p><strong>AN:** Just to clear the water, Draco is actually one of (if not my) favorite characters. I'm quite mean to him in this one, but I'm also sure that at the height of his mean streak, not too many people would be scrambling to do him any favors, romantic or otherwise. Draco in his first couple of years always struck me as quite childish, but I love the character nonetheless


	4. Chapter 4

**4.** **View**

**Pairing: **Deamus

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><p>The view from the astronomy tower was beautiful, if not a bit nippy. Seamus would never admit to being cold, of course, but he would periodically burrow further into Dean's side if and when a sudden chill overtook him. Dean didn't seem to mind, at any rate.<p>

The two of them looked out over the railing in comfortable silence and watched the myriad of couples down on the grounds below who, like them, had broken curfew and braved the patrolling prefects and teachers for a more romantic New Year's spot. Seamus had come reluctantly, complaining loudly that Dean was such a sentimental sop and that he wasn't too keen on being treated like a girl.

Dean smiled a bit to himself. Seamus didn't seem to be complaining now.

The night air was good for the view of the sky, at least. The stars stood out crisply against the black night sky, meeting the treeline in the distance and completing the ethereal picture before them. Something told him that this view would not be quite as spectacular as seen from their dorm room like Seamus had said he wanted to do instead, although something also told him that mentioning this to Seamus would be counterproductive.

He cast a quick _tempus,_ and layered on another warming charm to the cloak that they were sharing as a particularly biting breeze blew through the tower. Two more minutes left before midnight.

Another strong breeze swept past, prompting Seamus to turn and burrow his face into the taller boy's chest in an attempt to keep warm. Dean merely chuckled and pulled the cloak that much tighter around them. He silently admired the sky as they stood, setting his chin upon Seamus's unkempt hair and rocking gently back and forth as he felt Seamus's nose nudging into his collarbone. Despite Seamus's complaints, Dean was glad that he'd managed to talk him up here. the night was cold, but still quite gorgeous.

From the castle, the countdown began from ten, and Dean joined in under his breath. Seamus's muffled voice could be felt vibrating against his neck

Five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

Dean reached down and slid his fingers beneath Seamus's chin, gently tilting his face up into the cold air.

One.

Lips softly met.

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><p><strong>AN:** The last of my New Year's arc. Have a bitchin' 2015, everyone!


	5. Chapter 5

**5. False**

**Pairings:** Olicus

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><p>Marcus was accustomed to living under false pretenses. As with most members of his house, deceit was a natural and comfortable second skin to him. His own lover, despite his...initial difficulties, had quickly acclimatized himself to Marcus's life of deception and had learned to deceive others (including his friends and own housemates) accordingly.<p>

_D-don't stop. **Fuck!** M-Marcus!_

It was exhausting at times; living a lie in order to keep their affections secret from the world. But Marcus was not one to show weakness, and Oliver was nothing if not his Achilles Heel. All of the physical and emotional fatigue in the world was worth being sure that he had his little Griffindor prat all to himself.

_That's right, Ollie. Say my name. Just like that, love._

Granted, the two of them were nearly constantly at the other's throat, but to go against Oliver was Marcus's privilege alone. Marcus was a jealous lover and under no circumstances was anyone to touch what was his, an unspoken rule of which he had made sure that Percy Weasley was quite _painfully_ aware.

Not that the prat was privilege to the fact that Marcus's relationship with Oliver was anything more than a schoolyard rivalry.

_Marcus! Oh fuck...MARCUS!_

One day, the need for them to hide the true nature of their relationship would cease to exist, but today was not that day.

_Good boy, Ollie. Just like that, love._

For now, Marcus was content to simply become accustomed (and reaccustomed) to the fringe benefits of their current arrangement.


	6. Chapter 6

**6. Confused**

**Pairings:** Oliver/Marcus

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><p>Of all of the people milling about in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had not been expecting to run into Oliver Wood. Face smeared with all manner of dirt, robes torn and filthy, Harry actually had to look at him for a minute or two before being able to place him.<p>

He later told himself that it was leftover jitteriness from the battle that made him pull his wand on the familiar dark-haired man that had sidled up behind Oliver as they stood there talking. It was just reflex, his friends told him later, for what kind of Griffindor would leave his wand idly laying by when approached by none other than Marcus Flint?

It was due to his sudden eagerness to defend himself and his friend that Harry didn't immediately realize that Oliver had actually moved and placed himself between Marcus's chest and the tip of Harry's wand. He was still blinking uncomprehendingly at them when the trio was approached by a concerned-looking Headmistress McGonagall who greeted them, albeit warily.

And in her greeting, Harry was further confused to hear the headmistress refer to both Oliver and Marcus as Mr. Flint.

"Potter," Oliver said, once she had gone "it's been good seeing you, but you should really consider getting some sleep. You look dead tired."

He wasn't able to to do more than pat Harry on the shoulder before he was being led away by a grumbling Marcus, left hand firmly gripping his husband's right elbow to steer him through the crowd.

Harry, however, didn't miss the glinting of the sunlight off of the platinum band fit snugly on the third finger of that hand as the pair drew further and further away from him and toward the Great Lake.

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><p><strong>AN:** This little one has been in my head for quite a while, and I just had to finally let it out.

Harry's mentally fried state inspired in part by my also being crazy tired at this moment in time.


	7. Chapter 7

**7. Really**

**Pairings:** Deamus, Drarry if you squint

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><p>In Seamus's defense, his plan was iron-clad. He was helping out Harry with his love life while at the same time winning the betting pool currently up for grabs amongst Griffindor house. Two birds with one stone, really.<p>

What hadn't counted on was Draco's obstinate refusal to acknowledge even the _slightest_ possibility that "any form of unresolved sexual tension might exist between himself and scarhead, here." Stupid Slytherin prat and his stupid pride.

As it was, Dean accompanied him that night as he brought a tray of supper to Harry who was still trapped beneath Seamus's enchanted mistletoe. Seamus sheepishly endured the raven's glare from the floor where he and Draco lay listlessly on opposite sides of the corridor; the two of them had opted to sit in stubborn silence instead of carry out the mistletoe's intended purpose and be free to go on their way.

Seamus _did_ feel a bit guilty, but Harry needed to relax and realize that this was all for his own good, after all.

"Too bad that mistletoe doesn't seem to have a counter-charm to it." Dean idly stated later, as the two of them reclined on a couch in the common room. It took Seamus a minute or two to register the meaning of his words, as he was being pleasantly distracted by the sensation of Dean gently carding his fingers through his wild sandy hair. A wicked smile broke across the Irishman's face an he tilted his head back to look Dean in the eyes.

"Who ever said that there wasn't a counter-curse?" He asked with feigned innocence.

Dean's fingers faltered for a second before he snorted incredulously.

"Really, Seamus?"

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><p><strong>AN:** I couldn't pass up the opportunity to use the whole "enchanted mistletoe that traps the people until they kiss" premise. I could always just see the Drarry trying to happen but both boys being so incredibly stubborn about it and instead choosing to sit on the floor and stare at the other rather than sucking it up and getting on with it. At this point in time, they've actually been sitting there for somewhere around 11 hours.


	8. Chapter 8

**8. Bittersweet**

**Pairing: **Drarry

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><p>The two of them weren't stupid, they knew what the consequence of their little romps would be if ever uncovered. Complete and utter social upheaval.<p>

That didn't stop them, of course. The air of danger was always alluring in its own perverted way. The boy who lived and his arch rival (a death eater, no less) were not supposed to be together, not in an infinite number of universes. It really was a shame that neither of them gave a flying fuck.

The possibility of a disastrous turn of events always slipped away from their minds as they lay softly ensconced in the other's arms, sometimes naked and panting, as sometimes silent and contemplative.

It was a perfect as it was inconvenient.

It was completely bittersweet.

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><p><strong>AN:** inspired in part by the song Viðrar Vel Til Loftárása by Sigur Rós, which has the most haunting and beautiful music video that I have ever seen


	9. Chapter 9

**9. Attic**

**Pairing: **Harry/Seamus

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><p>"Shay, I have no idea what to do." Harry grumbled into Seamus's lap after re-hashing the latest situation that he and his friends had found themselves in. Seamus couldn't do much more than snort in amusement at his lover's antics, choosing to instead continue to run his fingers through Harry's wild locks. Tonight it looked as if the other two thirds of the golden trio were too busy being wrapped up in each other to give much mind to Harry, anyhow.<p>

A muffled "Shay?" interrupted his thoughts and he affectionately regarded the boy whose head was being cradled in his lap. His fingers stopped their stroking, opting instead to bury themselves in Harry's hair and rub tiny circles into his scalp.

"Not much going on in that attic of yours right now, eh love?"

Harry snorted indignantly at him, but was otherwise silent. Seamus smiled to himself, leaning down and planting a little kiss on the back of his head.

"No worries then. I'll just have to think for the both of us." He mumbled to him softly.

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><p><strong>AN: **Done as a request to fallingfireflies, who wanted some Seamus/Harry lovin'


	10. Chapter 10

**10. Idea**

**Pairing:** Deamus

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><p>Seamus was nothing if not an ideas man.<p>

True, some of these ideas of his often wound up with himself in serious hot water or in some sort of fiery explosion, but they were ideas nonetheless. His head was practically bursting with them, constantly flitting around in his conscious and unconscious thoughts. Seamus blamed his penchant for destruction on the ever present and ever pressing powers of his Ideas.

They were his explanation when he decided that distracting the class during potions and lacing a few of the Slytherin cauldrons with dragon's blood would be hilarious (which was, he'd managed to blow off half of Pansy Parkinson's hair in the process) but had also landed him in a month's worth of detention with the greasy git himself, Professor Snape.

He also blamed them that time that time during fourth year that he'd decided to go into the forbidden forest for some peace and quiet from the girls squealing about the Yule Ball and Dean, who had refused to take him to the ball as his date. That little escapade landed him in the hospital wing for two weeks with a very nasty purple rash but had also earned him a very hearty apology from Dean when it eventually cleared up.

The Ideas were Seamus's excuse for everything that happened around him and to him, but they weren't always bad.

Sometimes they kept him happier, healthier, and in some cases, well-fed. Sometimes they found ways for he and his dorm mates to get themselves drunk and party until the early hours of the morning. Sometimes they found new and interesting places for he and Dean to...spend some quality time together. Sometimes they devised new and hilarious ways to terrorize the younger years or the members of Slytherin house.

And sometimes they found him dragging Dean by the wrist out into an abandoned classroom, Dean's drawing pad and charcoals clamped firmly beneath his free arm.

"Shay," Dean huffed, closing the door and running his fingers exasperatedly through his own hair, "what is it this time?"

"Here." Seamus purred deviously, sashaying up the far set of stairs and into the teacher's office at their top. He flung the door wide and crossed the room, sinking slowly onto a chaise lounge as Dean came in the door. He repressed his smile at Dean's gobsmacked expression as he began to slowly unbutton the top of his shirt.

"Dean," he purred with a smirk, continuing to disrobe, "draw me like one of your French girls."

Dean snorted at the reference, but eagerly did as he was told.

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><p><strong>AN:** I have decided that the theme song for Deamus is Magic by Coldplay. Corny, I know, but the song has an OTP vibe to it and the name just lends itself to any ship within the HP fandom. I challenge you to read a fluffy fic about your OTP while listening to it and not getting the adorable-chills.


	11. Chapter 11

**11. Desk**

**Pairing: **Drarry

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><p>Professor Snape was nervous, as he rightfully should be in a room full of both teenagers and potions ingredients with potentially fatal properties. He found himself watching his class more avidly than usual, however, as today the Potter brat had decided to sit next to his godson in the very back of the class. What was more was that every so often, one of them would jerk or twitch suddenly and shoot a glare at the other. <em>Clearly<em> the two of them were assaulting each other beneath the desk, and Snape was certain that it was only a matter of time before the two of them came to blows and he would have to slap the bespectacled brat with another week's worth of detention for antagonizing another student.

Well at least that was a silver lining, at any rate.

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><p>"<em>Draco<em>," Harry hissed under his breath, grabbing the blonde's wrist beneath the desk as the hand connected to it once again slid up his inner thigh, "you're going to get us caught, you git. Snape's already glaring at me like he want to cut me up for ingredients as it is!"

"What's the matter, Potter?" Draco purred back, twisting out of his grasp and moving to gently cup him through his robes. "Scared?"

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><p>Snape's eyes narrowed further as he watched Potter jerk so hard that he kicked the leg of the desk.<p>

Something was _definitely_ going on back there.

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><p><strong>AN:** Beileve me, this is the least dirty idea that came to mind with this prompt.


	12. Chapter 12

**12. Many**

**Pairing:** Olicus

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><p>Sometimes Oliver asked Marcus how many that he had had before him. He was genuinely curious how he stacked up in comparison to Marcus's previous lovers, and was always frustrated when the Slytherin would brush him off with a heavy sigh or a kiss to his forehead. He felt that he deserved to know who he was competing against, but Marcus was unfailingly tight-lipped on the subject.<p>

Sometimes he would feel inadequate because of it and wonder if he wasn't told as a result of not being quite as satisfying as his predecessors. Sometimes it made him sad, as he considered it a possibility that Marcus had been deeply attached to one of his previous conquests and found it painful to think about him or her.

Mostly, though, it just made him angry. He had been honest with Marcus, telling him of his first brief fling with one of the Ravenclaw beaters during fourth year who had helped him to discover his deep affinity for having a partner of the dominant inclination. Marcus knew that Oliver hadn't been with anyone else since, and all that Oliver was asking for in return was some quid pro quo.

It was because of these emotions and his petty jealousy that Oliver felt ashamed and rather stupid when a heavily drunk Marcus confessed to him one night that Oliver had actually been his first.


	13. Chapter 13

**13. Guide**

**Pairing:** Drarry

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><p>"Draco, this isn't funny." Harry grumbled yet again as he fumbled around the bed for his glasses. Draco watched from his cross-legged perch on Harry's bed in apparent amusement. He couldn't help a small laugh as Harry bumped head first into the nightstand and cursed under his breath.<p>

"Actually, I find it quite hilarious." Draco drawled back, picking on a loose thread in the sheets and smiling to himself. "You're very graceful when you're blind, I _must_ say."

Harry growled to himself, saying something under his breath that involved Draco's name and _prat,_ but got to his knees and began to sweep the floor with his hands for the missing lenses.

"Shouldn'a thrown the bloody things when we came in." Harry huffed to himself, sitting back on his haunches by the foot of Dean's bed and sulking.

"Well," Draco purred,"in your defense, you _were_ a bit..._distracted."_ He wiggled his eyebrows for effect, but of course Harry couldn't see it. He sighed, climbing off of the bed and sinking onto the floor beside his lover.

"Don't worry, pet." he cooed, running his fingers through Harry's messy locks. "As soon as we're married, I'll just have to buy you one of those muggle guide dogs that you were telling me about."

Harry snorted indignantly, but didn't disagree.

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><p><strong>AN:** many apologies to those who saw this update earlier, as I accidentally forgot to edit this before uploading the first time


	14. Chapter 14

**14. Hot**

**Pairing:** Olicus (one-sided preslash)

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><p>One of these days, Marcus was going to set fire to Oliver Wood's broom, no matter how hot he looked when he was riding it.<p>

Or perhaps _because_ of it.

Either way, the broom needed to die.

It was throwing him off of his game when instead of having his mind on the match going on, he'd be watching that stupid git floating gently at his post, occasionally darting with unreal speed to block a shot. He moved with the grace and beauty of a Greek god; deadly precise and unconsciously seductive. Marcus would have given almost anything to be in the place of that broom; sandwiched between those sweat-slicked, firmly clenched thighs and being held onto for dear life.

He wondered if Oliver would be ridden as wonderfully as he rode that accursed broom of his.

But this was all idle thought, after all, as nothing could ever come of it.

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><p>Oliver stepped from the Griffindor locker rooms later that night, freshly showered and ready for the after party that surely awaited him up in the common room. He stopped, however, and did a double take as a flickering orange light caught the corner if his eye.<p>

"What in the bloody hell!?" He exclaimed, as he realized that the sight before him happened to be a blazing bonfire made of the broken pieces of his quidditch broom.

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><p><strong>AN:** two updates in one day! Whoo!


	15. Chapter 15

**15. Safe**

**Pairing:** Drarry

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><p>Draco eventually became acclimatized to Harry's frequent night terrors, but they were easily the worst in the years directly following the war. Some nights, Harry would simply cry softly to himself and the sound of it would break Draco's heart. Sometimes he would abruptly be jolted awake in the dead of night, heart galloping in his chest because Harry was screaming at the top of his lungs. During the first few instances of that, Draco had actually been afraid to comfort him through touch for fear that Harry might attack him in his sleep.<p>

Some nights when he would wake, Harry would make himself small in Draco's arms and tell him about what he had dreamt before eventually falling back to sleep.

But every night Draco would be sure to pet his hair, squeeze him gently, and assure him that no matter the dream, he was safe now. The war was over, and he was safe.


	16. Chapter 16

**16. None**

**Pairing:** Olicus

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><p>Adrian Pucey had once asked Marcus why out of any possible person in Hogwarts, he had chosen Oliver. Marcus remembered the night clearly, even down to the hue of Adrian's flushed cheeks as he gestured wildly around the common room with their half-empty firewhisky bottle. Adrian, despite his fondness for drink, was not very adept at holding his liquor and when thoroughly pissed would become quite touchy-feely. This sudden interest in Marcus's love life was a sure sign that he was already well on his way to getting there.<p>

For the longest moment, Marcus was unsure as to how to answer his question or even if he felt to inclination to answer it at all.

Why he had chosen Oliver was simple, really, when he went to the very heart of it. No one else was capable of riling Marcus up in quite the same way as Ollie was, while at the same time causing him to want to beat the ever living shit out of anyone who dared threaten him or Marcus's hold on him. Oliver was the single most infuriatingly gentle and loving creature on the face to the Earth, as far as Marcus was concerned. He was Marcus's property as much as Marcus also belonged to him. Absolutely no one else had earned the right to fight with -and fuck with- Oliver as he had.

Oliver Wood was Marcus's own private enigma of which he had absolutely no intention of sharing.

It was with this thought that he said simply to his friend that Oliver had been chosen because out of everyone, he was the most interesting.

Of course, this was the understatement of the century.

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><p><strong>AN:** lazy day today, so sorry about the late updates. Two is better than one at any rate though, eh?


	17. Chapter 17

**17. Ring**

**Paring:** Olicus

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><p>For the final few months of his seventh year, Marcus Flint was a nervous wreck. Graduation was hurtling at his head along with all of the final preparations that came with it, but this wasn't chief among his concerns. Marcus's mind was occupied by something that had the potential to be a bit more...life-altering.<p>

He had agonized for weeks over the ring, wanting something to represent his family's moderate wealth without being overly flashy. He had absolutely no idea what Oliver would like, either, as the keeper was not partial to wearing jewelry as it was. After three solid weeks of deliberation, Marcus finally settled on a black gold band set with a moderately sized ceylon cut ruby.

The ring out of the way, Marcus was then plagued with the task of deciding when, where, and how to propose. He carried the box with him at all times in a pocket on the inside of his robes in the hopes that a perfect opportunity might arise. Many seemed to, but were interrupted before anything could come of them. A quiet moment spent in a deserted hallway broken in on by Percy Weasley who approached them with suspicion in his eyes. A late night laying together in Marcus's bed disrupted by the inopportune appearence of Adrian Pucey. Time began to run short and Marcus had started to fear that he'd have to propose in the middle of the Great Hall or during a class if he ever wanted to get it done.

Then came one particular afternoon spent by the lake, leaning against a tree and watching the clouds float by in the breeze. The two of them sat there for hours, Oliver seated between Marcus's outstretched legs and leaning back against his chest. They talked about nothing the entire afternoon, eventually lapsing into a comfortable silence and simply enjoying the other's company.

Marcus knew it to be the perfect time when the sun had sunk nearly below the horizon, casting the sky and lake alike in a brilliant red and purple glow. The air had chilled the slightest bit with the dusk, but was no bother due to the warm body pressed against the entire front half of his chest. The scenery was perfect, the atmosphere was perfect, and Marcus slipped his hand out of Oliver's relaxed grip to begin to paw around for the hidden pocket in his unbuttoned robes.

"Ollie." he mumbled, nosing into the back of Oliver's head and burying his face into his hair. Oliver murmured something, but was otherwise unresponsive. His chest was rising and falling slowly, and Marcus chucked softly when he realized that his lover had fallen fast asleep. He readjusted his grip on the box and took a deep breath before he gently shook Oliver into consciousness.

When Oliver shifted sideways and turned those big brown eyes on him, he was momentarily speechless.

"Marcus?" Oliver questioned sleepily, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. "Marcus, what's wrong?"

Marcus placed a gentle kiss to the brunette's forehead instead of answering him, lingering a bit longer than he usually would. "Ollie," he murmured against his skin, "you know I love you, right?"

Oliver pulled his head back and looked into his eyes, and Marcus was alarmed by the fear that he saw creeping into them.

"Marcus?"

Oliver slowly looked down at the tiny black box that had been pressed into his left palm, the other hand still twined with Marcus's and tightening its grip ever so slightly. He looked back up at Marcus questioningly, but Marcus simply pushed the box more firmly into his hand.

"Open it."

He did, eyes widening in shock and eyebrows hitting his hairline as he took in the ruby glinting softly in the dying sunlight.

"Is this...?"

Marcus nodded.

"And you want me to...?"

Marcus nodded again.

Then, he did something that Marcus had never seen him do a single time before in his life.

Oliver Wood began to cry.

Silently, tears began to roll down his face and he plucked the ring from its velvet lining, examining it against the light before slipping it wordlessly onto his finger.

"Do I take this as a yes?"

A smile spread across Oliver's face and he buried his head in the crook of Marcus's shoulder, tears still slipping down and across his cheeks.

"Yes, Marcus. That would be a yes."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

And that night, long after the sun had set, Marcus lay there with him, holding him all the more tightly.

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><p><strong>AN:** Olicus- quiet, intense, and without the need for unnecessary words. This drabble got away from me a bit, but I wouldn't make it shorter even if I wanted to.


	18. Chapter 18

**18. Test**

**Pairing:** Drarry (the other half of #7 Really)

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><p>Draco glared at Potter. Potter glared right back.<p>

They had been sitting here for hours, all because of stupid Finnegan and his stupid mistletoe and of all of the people in Hogwarts, Draco had to be stuck under it with stupid Potter. The windows in the corridor had long since gone dark, and his bum was thoroughly numb from sitting motionless on the floor for an extended period of time.

Finnegan eventually brought them supper, Thomas following behind him like a shadow. He looked as sheepish as he ought to have but otherwise didn't say anything as Potter glared him down.

They ate in complete silence, Potter eating his half first and levitating the tray across to Draco instead of getting up and giving it to him. They had an unspoken agreement to stay as far away from each other as humanly possible, but after casting a quick _tempus_ and huffing quietly to himself, Draco was seriously considering snogging the prat just to get back to his dorm room and into bed. He could always claim that Potter jumped him in desperation and save face that way.

"Potter"

The prat's eyes snapped to him, mouth drawn tight in a line.

"This has gone on long enough, Potter. Much as the idea of being anywhere near you sickens me, I can no longer feel the lower half of my body." He drawled, trying to convey all of the reluctance that he was feeling. Potter arched an eyebrow at him.

"Malfoy, are you suggesting...?"

Draco settled his face in his hands and let out an exasperated sigh. "No, Potter, I'm suggesting that you attempt to leap out of the window at the end of the hall."

Potter's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion at that. "Wait, so...?"

Draco glared, if possible, even harder at him. "You really are a stupid twat, you know that?"

Potter's mouth fell open in indignation and he spluttered. "Well, you can sit there until your whole body goes numb, then. I wouldn't come any closer to you for anything in the world, git."

Potter glared at Draco. Draco glared back.

The silence stretched between them until Draco growled under his breath and rose unsteadily to his feet. Potter watched unwaveringly as he shook each leg in an attempt to get feeling back into them. When Draco could feel each toe wiggling against the inside of his boots, he brushed himself off and started across the corridor. Potter's eyes widened in alarm.

"Stay away from me, Malfoy." He warned, scrunching himself up against the wall defensively.

Draco kept coming.

"Malfoy, I'm serious." He said with more volume, scrambling to his feet to evade him.

Draco gave chase.

It might have looked comical to the casual observer, the pair of them running after the other in a wide circle in the hallway, but Potter ran like an animal being hunted down by a predator and the longer he ran away, the more frustrated Draco became. He had no intentions of sitting down here all night, no matter what the prat had in mind.

It was with this thought that Draco put on a burst of speed and leapt, tackling Potter to the ground.

"Malfoy! Get the hell off of me, you wanker!" Potter bellowed, writhing like mad to free himself from Draco's iron grip. Draco held on more tightly to Potter's robes and tried to incapacitate him as best as he could.

"Listen," he growled into the back of Potter's neck, " I don't want to do this any more than you, but I'll be _damned_ if I spend a _single_ second more under this _bloody_ mistletoe with you. So hold still scarhead, and try not to enjoy yourself too much."

To his (pleasant) surprise, Potter had stilled slightly beneath him. He was still wiggling around, but not nearly as violently as before. Draco assumed that Potter wasn't appreciating being manhandled, but couldn't really bring himself to care as he rolled the prat over beneath him.

They stared at each other stubbornly, neither wanting to be the one to make the first move. Potter rolled those stupid green eyes of his at him.

"Are we going to do this or not?"

"Shut up, Potter," Draco growled, leaning over a bit, "And close your eyes. I'd rather pretend that you're someone else, if you don't mind."

"Someone like Parkinson, perhaps?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, but continued to descend. "Don't make me vomit in your mouth, Potter."

Both boys clenched their eyes shut and Draco descended the last final bit.

And froze.

The instant that their lips met, Draco felt as if he'd been shot. Every single muscle in his body tensed for a split second, before shakily relaxing against his will into an eerie sort of warmth. It was pleasant and tingly and something in the back of Draco's mind was fighting through this sudden onslaught to remind him that he definitely should not have been enjoying this.

Beneath him, he was vaguely aware of the fact that Potter was equally motionless.

The moment stretched on.

And on.

And on.

Until the screaming agony of Draco's knees supporting his weight against the hard floor finally broke through his haze and he pulled back with a gasp.

Both pairs of eyes flew open at the same moment and stared at the other with dilated pupils, struggling to comprehend what the _hell_ had just happened. Ever so slowly, a rosy blush began to spread and darken across Potter's cheeks and down his neck.

"Malfoy? What just...?"

His voice sounded like gravel, but it broke Draco's trance. The blonde leapt off of him with unnatural speed and got to his feet as Potter struggled to sit up on his hands. That rosy blush had darkened to a nice scarlet, which Draco was trying very hard to tell himself that he was not taking notice of.

"Malfoy?"

"This never happened." Draco growled through gritted teeth, slowly edging his way backward along the corridor. He waited only until he saw Potter nod in agreement before he turned and strode away with his head held high and his own blush spreading across his cheeks.

As soon as he turned the corner, he broke into a dead sprint for the dungeons, eventually bursting through the door and scattering a few second years who had congregated on his favorite couch. As he flopped onto it face first, he didn't need to look around to see his year mates had gathering on the furniture around him.

Before any said anything, he looked up into Blaise's smug face and brandished a finger at him.

"Not a fucking word."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** another whopper of a drabble for you all, this time being Harry and Draco's first kiss :3

And I can't tell you guys how excited I was this morning to see that my view count had broken 1K! That's more views than any of my other fics have ever gotten ever! To celebrate, I had leftover pizza for breakfast :33


	19. Chapter 19

**19. Including**

**Pairing:** Drarry

* * *

><p>Now that Ron and Hermoine had gotten all of their sexual tension rubbish out of the way and become a couple, they had slowly begun to spend less and less time with Harry. Harry understood, of course. This thing that they had was new and would need time to develop before things went back to normal.<p>

Well not _completely_ normal, but as normal as things could be when one's best friends suddenly begin to date each other.

And although Harry was feeling a bit left out, it was a bit of a win-win situation because now he could slip off to see Draco without having to explain his disappearances to them. The blonde had his ways of taking the sting out of the fact that two thirds of the golden trio were no longer too keen on including him in their daily activities.

All things considered, Harry figured that he could live with that.


	20. Chapter 20

**20. Everywhere**

**Pairing:** Olicus

* * *

><p>Everywhere Oliver looked, he would see happy couples. Day in and day out he saw them hanging off of each other, laughing and hugging and kissing without a care if they were seen by other people.<p>

Sometimes he really resented the couples that didn't have to hide. On days like today when he and Marcus had not had any time together for nearly a week, he could very easily believe that he hated them for how much he wished that he could be them. For how much he wished that he and Marcus didn't _have_ to keep apart for multiple days just to keep from raising suspicions amongst their friends and dormmates.

Some days, Oliver would have stabbed one of those happy couples just for the chance to simply hold Marcus's hand or snog the git in public without bedlam descending on their heads. Those saps didn't understand what a privilege it was to be able to show affection whenever they damn well pleased without fear of any repercussions.

He hadn't known his lover's touch in nearly a week, hadn't spoken to him, barely even saw him walking through the halls or coming in from quidditch practice. The two had to pretend to be perfectly apathetic to the other's presence, simply to keep up appearances.

Oliver's only consolation came in the form of brief moments of eye contact with him between classes or across the great hall when he would see the lust and the longing that he was sure was in his own eyes reflected back at him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** again, I apologize for the lateness of these more recent updates. I seem to have allowed my schoolwork to backlog quite horrendously so I find myself incredibly busy and I only have myself to blame. Seriously considering changing my penname to Viva La Procrastination...


	21. Chapter 21

**21. Article**

**Pairing: **Drarry

* * *

><p>When the news of their relationship was made public, the wizarding world acted as if the Earth had stopped spinning and had split down the middle for good measure. The Daily Prophet was having a field day, running off articles like no other, each issue filled to the brim with racier "eyewitness accounts" than the last.<p>

At first the boys would read the articles aloud to each other and laugh about their absurdity, but eventually the "facts" being reported became a bit too disturbing for them to stomach.

What was more disturbing were the students who took the articles as gospel and followed the boys around incessantly as a result. Wherever they went, their unofficial entourage was there with a vengeance. As would be expected, the boys both soon became very annoyed with their constant presence and had taken to moving about the castle a bit more...stealthily. As well as becoming adept at sneaking from class to class, the boys had also holed themselves up in a forgotten set of professor's quarters, living in them and refusing to come out until their classmates dropped their stalker-esque behavior.

It was because of this that Hermoine found herself carrying a tray of food down a corridor on the fourth floor one evening, rolling her eyes and muttering under he breath as she walked. She soon came to a nondescript portrait of a scene depicting a wooden ship afloat on a stormy sea and knocked upon it.

"Who is it?" Came Draco's slightly irritated voice, although he knew full well who was at the door.

"Housekeeping!" Hermione replied jokingly. Somewhere inside, she heard Harry's laugh and approaching footsteps.

The portrait opened the slightest bit, and Harry's head poked out, blinking owlishly at her in the torchlight. "'Lo 'Mione." He said, smiling sheepishly and leaning out into the hall a bit more.

If the disheveled hair and overly pink hue to his cheeks weren't already revealing enough, the fact that he didn't appear to be wearing any form of shirt would have been a dead giveaway of what she had just interrupted. Hermione arched a brow at him, but handed him the tray. In the background, she could hear Draco whining about Harry needing to close the portrait because he was supposedly letting in a draft.

Hermione could have said any number of things, but opted instead to roll her eyes at Harry and leave him to enjoy his seclusion with Draco.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I am so so sososososo sorry that I had no update for you guys last night but I am so swamped with homework this week that my writing time has been few and far between. In fact, I'm writing this right now as a study break, so I apologize for the quality of my brain-fried writing tonight. Being realistic, I can't guarantee daily updates for the next few days between dealing with my workload and the recovering of my mental faculties afterward, so consider yourselves warned. Here's to hoping that I don't end up short circuiting by Friday.


	22. Chapter 22

**22. No**

**Pairing:** Deamus

* * *

><p>"No."<p>

"Come on Dean. Please?"

"No, Seamus. I don't feel comfortable with this."

The two stared each other down, Seamus's eyes wide and pleading and Dean's slightly narrowed and wary. The air hung between the two, thick and damp but rapidly cooling as the two had momentarily ceased their amorous activities. In Seamus's hands lay the crumpled fabric of their house ties, held out to Dean as if in an offering. Both sweat-slicked chests rose and fell rapidly as they panted in the silence that had fallen between them.

"Dean, _please."_

"Sea-"

"I trust ye."

Dean blinked at that, staring back at his lover with a softness in his eyes but hesitation still in his heart. Seamus gently thrust the ties at him again, rubbing them against Dean's loosely fisted hands.

"Sea, I'm just not...I don't think I can-"

" I. Trust. Ye."

The softness of his voice was balanced out by the intensity of his eyes. He never once looked away from Dean.

"I know ye'll untie me if I ask, love. I've thought this through an' I wanna try it. Please, Dean."

The ties were set in Dean's lap and the decision was left to him. He looked at them, looked at Seamus's face.

"Sit back by the headboard." He said softly.

Seamus absolutely beamed and scrambled to comply, throwing his hands over his head and squirming with excitement as the ties were knotted gently around his wrists.

He counted it as a victory that by the end of the night he had successfully convinced Dean of the merits of a little playful bondage.

* * *

><p>AN: coming back from the dead with some OTP lovin' :3

Just as a reminder, I'm open for pairing or situation requests so just let me know if you have a craving for a certain ship or whatever.

And just as a side note, please let me know if I'm butchering accents. This was my first time realizing that hey, maybe I should actually write Seamus with one and as I'm an American, I might not catch everything that maybe I should have included in there. Many thanks, you guys!


	23. Chapter 23

**23. Zoo**

**Pairing:** Deamus

* * *

><p>The aftermath if the Battle of Hogwarts was nothing short of an absolute zoo.<p>

Amid the chaos of the dead and the dying, An oddly apathetic Seamus was sitting completely still beside Dean on the grass outside. The ground was cold and hard beneath him as he kneeled, but he did not feel it. Absently, he carded his fingers through Dean's curly locks; his other hand was loosely twined with Dean's and resting on the ground beside where Dean's body was laying.

Dean's blood, splattered across Seamus's face, had long since dried and had begun to feel itchy. Seamus began to hum quietly to himself under his breath.

The air around him was filled with the screaming, sobbing, and whimpering particular to mourning. Rubble was being overturned and bodies were being uncovered at an otherwise alarming rate. Seamus twirled a single lock around his finger and watched without interest, stroking the back of Dean's hand with his thumb. Dean had always liked have his hands stroked. He said it calmed him. Seamus pressed down in tiny circles against his unresponsive knuckles.

Neville approached him some time later, looking worried. He sat down in front of Seamus and tried to talk to him. Seamus stared right past him, content to stroke and swirl in silence. Neville looked at him with such a heartbroken expression, but Seamus didn't care. His thumb on Dean's knuckles went round and round.

The sun began to set in the distance, and Seamus finally stopped staring into space to watch it descend. Dean always liked to paint the sunset. He would sit up in the astrology tower with his paints and work feverishly to capture it before it was completely gone from the sky. He would often finish with streaks of red and purple on his cheeks and a wild sparkle in his eyes; on more than one occasion, the two of them would then sit and dangle their feet over the edge and talk.

Or not talk. They _had_ been in the astronomy tower, after all. His thumb on Dean's knuckles went round and round.

Night eventually fell and the air began to grow cold around him. His body shivered, but he barely registered the sensation. He watched with cool detachment as George Weasely wandered by looking lost and listless. Their eyes met, but neither seemed to register the other's presence. Both boys were off in their own little worlds. Seamus's thumb went round and round.

The workers began to rotate shifts, those who had cleared wreckage and moved bodies all day apparated elsewhere to eat and rest up. Harry came, looking haggard and exhausted. He sat next to Seamus and Seamus didn't acknowledge his presence. He stared straight ahead in complete silence. The thumb went round and round.

Harry tried to speak to him, but Seamus didn't register any of his words. Harry touched his shoulder and Seamus never felt a thing.

When Harry eventually shifted and nudged Dean's body, though, Seamus's vocal cords finally made their first noise in several hours.

As soon as Harry's hand made contact, Seamus Finnegan began to scream.

* * *

><p>AN: I am of the opinion that if either Seamus or Dean had not survived the Battle of Hogwarts the other would have most likely become catatonic for a good time. Whether you ship them as a romance or just as a bromance, you know this to be true. My Seamus here is especially traumatized because Dean was killed while he was standing close enough to be splattered with blood.


	24. Chapter 24

**24. Ate**

**Pairing: **Drarry

* * *

><p>"I cannot be<em>lieve<em> that you ate all of this chocolate."

Draco looked up from the most recent letter and box of chocolates mid-chew with what he hoped were wide and innocent eyes. He lay on his stomach on his bed, feet crossed lazily at his ankles against his headboard and an open box of truffles beside him.

He watched as Harry picked his way through discarded red and pink wax papers that littered the floor, kicking and stepping on them with a look of disbelief planted firmly on his face. There was a five foot radius of them around Draco's bed, inter dispersed with cardboard boxes and the occasional letter from an admirer. Draco's usual Valentine's Day haul, in other words.

"I think that you might enjoy this one, love." Draco snorted as Harry cleared off a spot on the bed to lay beside him. "He's got quite the imagination on him."

He passed the letter over to Harry and popped another truffle into his mouth, moaning blissfully as the center broke over his tongue. Beside him, Harry began to instinctually rub circles into the small of Draco's back with his fingers as he read.

"Well," Harry replied, eyebrows drawing down and together over his eyes, "that's certainly an... interesting use for a sugar quill. Sounds like quite the catch, this one." He tossed the letter aside with a huff of disgust and Draco chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

"Why, Mr. Potter wouldn't happen to have a counter proposal, would he?" Draco purred, rolling over onto his back and batting his eyelashes innocently up at Harry. Harry moved his hand possessively onto Draco's stomach, but was otherwise silent. Draco merely grinned up at him.

"You know, love," he whispered teasingly, wriggling closer and feeling the solid weight of Harry's Valentine's Day gift to him shifting around his neck and against his chest, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're a bit jealous of my secret admirers here."

Harry's fingers tightened the slightest bit against his midsection.

"Fun fact," Draco continued softly, trailing his fingertips up and down Harry's bicep as he spoke,"chocolate is reputed to actually be an aphrodisiac." He shifted his eyes up and looked at Harry with a wicked little smirk.

"What say you, Mr. Potter?" Draco purred, angling his body ever so slightly to Harry's gaze. "Care to reassert your claim?"

As it turned out, Harry seemed to think that that was a _splendid_ idea.

* * *

><p>AN: artistic license allows me to write Valentine's Day presmut in January, so I went ahead and did.


	25. Chapter 25

**25. Don't**

**Pairing:** Oliver/Draco

* * *

><p>The Griffindor locker room was silent, save for the steady pounding of water off of Oliver's back. He stood motionless beneath the spray, forehead resting against the frigid tile and fingers locked together behind his neck. The rest of the team had long since vacated, no one wanting to be present if their captain decided to explode.<p>

If Oliver Wood hated but one thing, it was to lose.

Gentle padding of feet on the wet floor behind him. Oliver didn't bother to turn around.

"Don't, Malfoy."

The footsteps faltered, but continued to approach at a more cautious pace. Oliver could feel those eyes on his back and visibly tensed. His fingers were undoubtedly white against the nape of his neck.

"Such a lovely view." Came the murmured reply. Oliver's eyes squeezed shut in a concentrated effort to restrain his mounting fury.

"The fuck you want?" Oliver snarled, rounding on him and barely restraining himself from strangling the little brat. He was fully dressed and standing just outside of the arc of the shower's spray, hair done just so and eyes sparkling with a devious sort of light.

Oliver decided right there that he would very much like to tear some of that hair right out of his conceited little head.

"Why, Wood," Draco purred, eyeing the water as it ran in rivulets down Oliver's body and dripped onto the floor, "I've just come to congratulate my opponent on a game well played. It's not every day that lions fall to snakes, after all, so I'd say that this is a special occasion."

Oliver could do no more than stare at the little blonde git who stood there with the most insufferable shit-eating grin that he had ever seen stretching across his face. Draco took his silence as an invitation and continued on.

"Perhaps," he mused aloud, tapping his finger against his chin in a gesture of mock contemplation and stepping forward a step, "Griffindor would have stood a better chance of winning if their keeper had kept his eye on the prize instead of the arse of Slytherin's captain. As tempting as he may seem, Wood, I can assure you that Flint is no great catch."

"Well perhaps Slytherin's seeker could have located the snitch a touch faster if he hadn't been too busy trying desperately and failing to catch the eye of The Boy Who Lived." Oliver spat out, absolutely shaking with rage. He felt the smallest twinge of satisfaction as Draco's grin faded a fraction and he began advancing toward Oliver. When he stopped, only a foot or so was between them.

"You know why I'm here, Wood." Draco sneered, reaching out with lightning speed and gripping Oliver's bicep forcefully. Oliver sucked in a gasp of air as he felt Draco's nails sink into the flesh. Those grey eyes of his were on fire and focused only on him.

"I'm not doing this again, Malfoy. Go celebrate off with your teammates somewhere and bugger off." Oliver huffed, attempting to twist his arm from Draco's grasp to no avail. The blonde seemed delighted by this, stepping up into Oliver's personal space and suddenly making him highly aware of the fact that he was currently very, very naked.

"Oh no, Oliver. I could never do _that."_ Draco purred, running his thumb gently along the curve of his muscle and sidling closer, batting his eyelashes into Oliver's face. "Face it, Wood. Marcus will never look at you the way that you'd like him to, just as Potter is never going to open his eyes to anything beyond a rivalry with me. Tragic, really. Just two peas in a pod, we are."

Oliver blinked but was otherwise silent, anger simmering the slightest bit to allow him to note the tiny bit of heat radiating from Draco's body to his own. The blonde smirked and slid closer, standing so that their chests nestled together.

"Let's help each other out, Wood." He whispered into Oliver's ear, nipping ever so lightly on his earlobe before drawing back and smiling all the wider at the dumbstruck expression that he found on the Griffindor's face.

"Your clothes are getting wet." Oliver murmured, wide-eyed and unable to think of a better retort with the mad rush of blood in his body suddenly diverting to places other than his brain. The anger formerly dominating his mind had melted easily into a primal lust as his blood supply made the decision to detour and pool in the second most important appendage in his body.

Draco hummed and began to back him up one step at a time, never breaking his gaze. "Yes, I suppose that they are." He murmured softly, darting up to nip at Oliver's bottom lip.

Then, Oliver's back hit the wall of the shower and his restraint finally snapped.

He could later recall throwing Draco to the ground and pouncing on him like a starving animal, but not much else beyond that. However, the long nail scratches along his back and twin bruises on either side of his lower back gave him plenty of information to draw some likely conclusions.

* * *

><p>AN: done as a request for bookitty98, wanted some Oliver/Draco post-quidditch sexy times. Featuring angsty! Oliver and slutty/manipulative! Draco

And as a side note, I am tickled pink to report that this story has broken the 2k mark for views!


	26. Chapter 26

**26. Saved**

**Pairing: **Deamus

* * *

><p>Dean Thomas sat in the Great Hall, his eyes darting about warily as he ate rather slowly. Seamus had yet to come down for dinner and Dean could see that Ron was beginning to eye up the extra portion of roast that Dean had set on his plate. Taking a small sip of pumpkin juice, Dean gripped his fork a bit more tightly.<p>

By the time that Seamus finally came bounding up to the table, Ron was all but visibly salivating over Dean's plate and Dean was about ready to let him have it. He managed to quash down his annoyance, however, and grin at his tiny boyfriend as he flung himself down beside him.

"Hey." Dean greeted, lifting his fork and stabbing Ron's stealthily reaching hand without having to look directly at it. He smiled as the redhead yelped in pain and Dean felt him withdraw from leaning against his side. He slid the plate over a place and pressed a quick kiss to Seamus's temple.

"Saved you some food."

* * *

><p>AN: I feel that it's worth noting that the pairings don't really have a set continuity, or at the very least a very loose one. I say this mostly just because I don't think I could handle doing fluffy Deamus if a previous drabble had dictated that Dean eventually dies very young.


	27. Chapter 27

**27. Actual**

**Pairing:** Olicus (preslash, kind of in the verse of #14 Hot)

* * *

><p>When Marcus had sent the bludger straight at Oliver, the stupid git was supposed to <em>dodge,<em> not take it in the bloody _head._ He watched with a violent lurching sensation in his stomach as Oliver swooned for a second before sliding off of his broom and dropping toward the Earth like a rock.

It wasn't supposed to actually _hit_ him.

A volley of levitation and cushioning charms were cast at Oliver from all angles and Marcus was off like a shot, leaning close to his broom to gain as much speed as he possibly could. Even so, he did not reach Oliver before he hit the ground without so much as a bounce, despite the numerous cushioning charms that had been layered on the pitch.

Marcus had never been quite so frightened in his life as when he dismounted and saw that Oliver was not breathing.

"Get up, you git." He hissed under his breath at him as he dropped to his knees beside Oliver's crumpled body. His hands were touching Oliver's face, shoulders, neck; a tiny bit of relief washed over him to feel that Oliver still had a pulse.

_Enneverate!_

The spell was off of his lips before he realized it.

Oliver's eyes shot open and he gulped in a lungful of air before arching his back and letting out an almost feminine squeal of pain. Hands grasping at his own hair, he rolled onto his side and proceeded to attempt to curl up into fetal position in the grass of the pitch. Marcus felt weak with both relief and an odd sense of guilt. Had he not remembered himself at the last minute, Marcus might have just scooped the git up and carried him to the infirmary himself.

Luckily for him, however, the two were set upon by Madame Hooch and assorted members of both teams before he could do anything too...unseemly.

And honestly, for fuck's sakes! _It wasn__'t supposed to actually hit him!_

* * *

><p>AN: Unresolved sexual tension makes Marcus an angsty boy


	28. Chapter 28

**28. Third**

**Pairing:** Deamus, one-sided Deamus/Harry

* * *

><p>In the very beginning of Harry's little sexuality crisis, Harry would sometimes lay awake and avidly listen to Dean and Seamus having sex. He was ashamed of the fact, but his curiosity always won out against the sensation of his flaming cheeks in the darkness of the room. It didn't happen very often, but occasionally the pair would forget to put up a silencing charm and the resulting audio would prove to be quite alluring to a boy who was discovering his affinity for other boys.<p>

He had so many questions that he wanted to ask them but was always afraid to do so. How did you know that you were gay? Are we the only gay students in Hogwarts? How do you decide who tops? Is it unpleasant to be on the bottom?

Although, from the breathy and keening little gasps that he often heard Seamus making throughout the night, he assumed that the answer to the last question was a resounding _no._

Sometimes he was blindingly jealous of their happiness and how simple their entire relationship seemed to be. The two had always been joined at the hip, the only factor that seemed to have changed was the addition to fucking to the mix.

But most nights, as he lay listening to the rhythmic rustling of sheets and the repeated mewling of _Dean!_ and _just there__!,_ he wondered if the two of them would consider taking him on as a third. To be initiated into the wonders of homosexual intercourse with not one but _two_ partners sounded like an amazing idea to him when safely ensconced in his own blankets.

It might have been feasible, even, if Dean wasn't also known to be passionately protective of the little Irishman, and something told him that Dean would _not_ be interested in sharing.

By the light of day, Harry's curiosity always all but abated. After all, he was _horny,_ not _suicidal._

* * *

><p>AN: Harry's (sexy) thoughts on Deamus.

I'd like to take this opportunity to send a shoutout to bookitty98, who has posted a ton of reviews on this and has been super supportive with positive feedback. Tyvm!


	29. Chapter 29

**29. Favorite**

**Pairing: **Olicus

* * *

><p>Of all of the things that Marcus had ever seen Oliver wear, his favorite had to be Marcus's quidditch jersey. It wasn't quite so much the way it looked on him (which was absolutely bloody fantastic) as it was the principle of him being clothed in something of Marcus's.<p>

More often than not, in fact, the occasions on which Oliver would wear it were the same occasions on which he was wearing absolutely nothing else.

Marcus had to admit that there was something deeply satisfying about savagely making love to _his_ Griffindor who was wearing a _Slytherin_ jersey on _Slytherin_ sheets while in the _Slytherin_ dorm room. He especially loved the way that the neckline would often slip down on Oliver's shoulder, allowing him access to Oliver's throat and lower neck to leave the deep purple bruises of which they were both so fond.

The presence of the jersey seemed to lend all the more weight to Marcus's frequent possessive declarations over Oliver. Most nights he would lean up and bury his face into the side of Oliver's neck, growling _mine_ into his ear between nips and small kisses to the side of the Griffindor's face. For Oliver to be clothed, bedded, and marked by no one save for Marcus was a true stroke to the Slytherin's ego, and Marcus had no intention for this to change any time in the future.

It was for this reason that the jersey was Marcus's definite favorite of all of the clothing worn by his boyfriend.

* * *

><p>AN: how are you guys feeling about all of the semi-smut-ness that's been happening lately? I'm just kind of feeling it at this point, and just rolling with it but if it's too much or maybe you want more...? If anyone has an opinion on it, please drop me a review and tell me what you think. Thankies^^!


	30. Chapter 30

**30. Bark**

**Pairing: **Olicus (preslash)

* * *

><p>One bright and unassuming Saturday morning found Oliver Wood safely hidden from sight in the Ravenclaw stands, stealthily observing Marcus Flint bark orders to his quidditch team on the pitch below. Oliver was watching avidly, missing nary a detail of the practice taking place before him.<p>

For purely strategic purposes, of course.

Marcus was absolutely merciless in his drills, running his players ragged with his constant bellowing and the more than occasional threat of physical harm. It was a small wonder that Marcus hadn't completely lost his voice yet, Oliver had thought to himself repeatedly. Lungs of iron on that one.

It was incredibly fascinating to Oliver, the amount of guff that the Slytherin players seemed able to put up with from Marcus without wanting to throw the git off of his bloody broom and hex him silly for good measure. Had Oliver been in any of their places, well...he didn't think that he could be held responsible for his actions if their roles were to be reversed.

He would also more than likely wake up in the hospital wing a week and a half later, but that was beside the point.

Oliver wasn't an idiot. He knew that if nothing else, Marcus Flint was a force to be reckoned with. It didn't matter how badly he sometimes wanted to smash the stupid prat's face into the nearest marble floor (and maybe fix those awful teeth of his in the process), Oliver was smart enough to know that to screw with Marcus in any form was to warrant swift and terrible retribution.

Marcus Flint was, in no uncertain terms, an absolute animal. But, as is the case with animals, Marcus also had a certain sort of undeniable magnetism to him.

It was, in fact, this magnetism that had drawn a certain Griffindor captain from his warm bed on a freezing November morning to watch Slytherin's quidditch practice, although he was unaware of his true motivations at that point in time.

Oliver was crouching behind the railing and spying like a second year with a bad crush for strictly strategic purposes, after all.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm kind of feeling this Olicus preslash groove that I have going, here. I dunno, it just feels like they need a bit more buildup and background before the romantic relationship that I see them having could he believeable. I attribute this to both the fact that they aren't a very popular ship to begin with, and my determination to spread my ship love into the world, one fanfiction reader at a time. Is it working?

And a side note: due to my ever busy schedule, which has once again decided to rear it's ugly head, I can no longer guarantee daily updates. I will certainly try to update daily and might continue to do so for a few more days, but I also might just be way too busy to get a drabble in every single night. Fear not, however, as my breaks should not be longer than a day or two if they occur at all. I know that this probably doesn't make a whole heap of difference to some of you, but I still figured that I'd warn you beforehand.


	31. Chapter 31

**31. Bill**

**Pairing:** Drarry

* * *

><p>Laying atop Harry's bed, Draco sat straddling Harry's legs. His hands coaxed another contented moan from the Griffindor beneath him as they kneaded firmly into the sore muscles of his lower back.<p>

"Love, where did you learn to do this?" Harry groaned, shivering involuntarily and melting further into the sheets. Draco smirked and gently ran his thumbs down either side of his spine, but did not answer.

Harry sighed deeply, arching his back and flexing his fingers in contentment beneath Draco's ministrations. The blonde chuckled softly to himself, leaning over Harry's shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"Perhaps I should bill you for this later, love."

Harry turned his face a fraction and smirked deviously up at his lover.

"Oh, I'm sure that I can come up with _some_ form of payment." Harry purred back, waggling his eyebrows cheekily.

Draco snorted and gently smacked the back of Harry's head, but continued to rub on his lower back to a chorus of appreciative moans.

* * *

><p>AN: Pointless presmut drabble is pointless.

I am currently looking at prom dresses online.

That is all.


	32. Chapter 32

**32. Fellow**

**Pairing:** Olicus

* * *

><p>Oliver had always felt distinctly uncomfortable sitting amongst his quidditch teammates when they would begin to boast about their past sexual conquests.<p>

It wasn't for lack of experience,though. Not by a long shot.

He always felt as if in speaking of any of his personal experiences he would accidentally let slip something damning and completely blow the cover off of his and Marcus's clandestine affair. He couldn't even offer little tidbits of his sex life for fear that he would accidentally reveal more than intended to his teammates who were actually quite intelligent, despite popular belief.

As far as they all knew, Oliver was still a blushing virgin in any and all aspects. Both Oliver and Marcus preferred it that way. It allowed them both to avoid suspicion.

So it was with an unsettled mind that Oliver would endure their little pissing contests, keeping his lips tightly sealed and ignoring the pistachio-hued eyes that would often be watching from across the room.

Eyes, as it was, that belonged to the man who had given Oliver more experience than his housemates could have ever _dreamed_ of getting for themselves.

* * *

><p>AN: I am truly sorry for this late and very short update, but if its any consolation, I have had an extremely trying weekend.

Just a reminder that I am open to both pairing and situation requests, so if you have a ship that you would like to see me attempt and/or a situation that you would like to see my trio of ships here be caught up in, just give me a yell! I always tend to write much better when it's for a request rather than just pulling on my own inspiration.


	33. Chapter 33

**33. Instant**

**Pairing:** Drarry

**Warning:** Dark

* * *

><p>Harry, accustomed as he was to dead sprinting, was not accustomed to doing so while painfully screaming at the absolute top of his lungs.<p>

And instant, a flash of light, and not even the frigid rain that had begun to fall on the battlefield could begin to soothe the absolutely volcanic rage that had manifested itself within the Boy Who Lived. Light and dark wizards alike faltered as he tore through them like a man possessed. A single look at his face was enough to deaden the spells on their lips, to cause them to widen their eyes in terror as the Great Harry Potter drove through them. All were taken aback as bursts of the scrawny teenager's magic threw adults twice his size aside as if they were no more than straw dolls.

In Harry's sight lay a single purpose, a single end goal. These others around him, they no longer existed. They were immaterial. They were obstacles to slow his progression toward the only person with any value on this godforsaken battle ground.

A person whose blonde head was trying valiantly to remain upright, despite the fact that he was very quickly bleeding out on the ground beneath him.

Harry dropped to his knees beside him, his hands frantically petting, patting, searching for the blonde's vital signs.

"_Nonononononononono_"

A weak cough splattered fresh blood on his face.

"**_No_**"

Gentle hands lifted the blonde to his chest, carded through his dripping locks. Rough and chapped lips nuzzled against the blonde's forehead and continued to pour forth frantic denials into the rapidly cooling skin.

"Draco, _please._ _**Please**_."

The blonde was no longer breathing as much as he was gurgling each breath. Harry clutched at him in wild horror as Draco's lungs filled with blood and he breathed no more.

The battle, no more than a half-hearted squabble after the initial defeat of Voldemort, had fallen into a terse silence as the Boy Who Lived arched protectively over the now completely still form on the ground. Rain pounded from overhead, running off of cloaks and obscuring the vision of the witches and wizards who were gathered round and quickly becoming uneasy with the boy's sudden unresponsiveness.

The lifting of Harry's head allowed for his gaze to land on a nearby witch, the caster of the spell, who was now backing slowly toward the sea of people surrounding her. A _light_ witch. One who was supposedly on the _good_ side. Harry's eyes narrowed and he snarled at the impertinent _bitch_ who slinked away from his presence.

_incendio_

The hiss was inaudible, in direct contrast with the witch's blistering screams as she was engulfed in a wall of white-hot flame.

Her frantic wailing and attempts to extinguish herself were of no amusement to Harry, however. She didn't _deserve_ to be put out. She didn't _deserve_ to live.

As she had been Draco's executioner, so would Harry become hers.

_petrificus totalus_

Those standing nearby became visibly sickened as the witch fell to the ground, burning to death and unable to move or scream to quell the pain. They all began a hasty retreat, light and dark alike, frantically scattering like frightened birds in all directions when they felt that they had reached a safe distance from the scrawny dark-haired boy on the hill.

Harry, for his part, was contented to sit beside his fallen lover.

When aurors finally arrived nearly twenty minutes later, it was to find Harry still seated on the hill. Behind him lay the smoking corpse of the young witch, and in his lap he still held Draco, gently raking golden strands of hair into place with his fingers and weeping silently into the rain.

* * *

><p>AN: Wow, I really suck at updating, don't I? In my own defense, though, I had the absolute suckiest Valentine's Day weekend of my life (so far) for the past couple of days, and my classes irl are dragging me down something major.

This update, in case anyone was wondering, was written while listening to iNSaNiTY Frost Mix, hence the dark vibe found here. I decided that I liked the idea of Harry becoming homicidally enraged if Draco were to be killed by anyone.

Not gonna lie, I can't guarantee that I'm going to be in a much better mood tomorrow, you guys. As it IS a long weekend, hopefully I'll be able to find time to update again before Tuesday. Maybe my next one will be fluffy and actually befitting of Valentine's Day.

Fingers crossed, I guess.


	34. Chapter 34

**34. Accurate**

**Pairing:** Olicus (preslash)

* * *

><p>Marcus placed another pea on his spoon, only half listening to the conversation happening at the table around him.<p>

"All I'm sayin'," Adrian was insisting from around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "is tha' it's best to be direct when ya fancy some girl. Women don' like all that beatin' around the bush shite."

Marcus rolled his eyes to himself, gaze anchored on the pea now balancing on the very tip of his spoon.

"Don' play games with 'em. Jus' charge right in an' tell 'em what's what. Birds love a man who takes charge."

Marcus's eyes scanned the Great Hall, seeking out a good target for his food amongst his fellow students. A Griffindor, if possible, would do nicely.

"Don' go pissin' about, hoping that she'll come to you, ya know?" Adrian continued, beginning to gesture with his fork at the boys sitting around him. "Man up an' get out there."

Marcus's eyes lit up as they settled on a familiar head of brown hair at the Griffindor table across the way. Muttering a quick charm to increase the elasticity if the spoon, Marcus pulled back and let fly.

The table conversation, meanwhile, had fallen silent, each boy intent on devouring some more of his meal.

Marcus's aim was not entirely accurate, and he felt a stab of disappointment as the pea instead clipped Percy Weasley's ear.

"But what if you're not sure if she fancies you back?" questioned the tiny brunette sitting to Adrian's left.

Percy, the prat, glared in Marcus's direction before returning to his plate of food. Oliver, on the other hand, didn't as much as look up.

"Don't be such a pansy." Adrian exclaimed, smacking the younger year beside him lightly upside the head in exasperation. "Jus' make a move so you know where ya stand wi' 'er. If she doesn' fancy ya back, tha's the end of it. Move on."

Marcus scanned his plate for another pea, picking out the plumpest he could find.

"And be laughed at by all of her mates? Not bloody likely." The younger year sassed, rubbing his head in mock hurt.

Marcus balanced the pea again, focusing his aim on Oliver's grey turtleneck across the way.

"At least ye'll know, then." Adrian reasoned, taking another generous scoop of potatoes. "An' it's better than pretendin' tha' ya don' like 'er at all."

Marcus pulled the spoon back yet again and let fly. He was elated to watch as this new pea hit Oliver in the dead center of his forehead.

* * *

><p>AN: Marcus doesn't know it yet, but this background conversation is kind of the story of his life at this point.

I'm feeling a lot less angsty today, if you haven't noticed. I've had a bit of a stressful week but the majority of that stress passed last night. Currently I am very tired, but no longer crabby. I'm actually very surprised that anything that I'm typing is actually coherent.

But it is with my sudden good mood that I bring you lighthearted fluffy preslash of the Olicus variety. Enjoy :3


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